


The Girl in Pink

by MerryLilHobbit



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Baking, F/M, Fluff, Memory Loss, Oblivious, Obliviousness, Romance, Secret Santa, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-14 21:25:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13016439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerryLilHobbit/pseuds/MerryLilHobbit
Summary: Jacob wonders why the beautiful woman in pink visits his bakery every single day.





	The Girl in Pink

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blackorchids](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackorchids/gifts).



> I apologize, this was longer than it needed to be! I hope that’s okay! :)
> 
> Merry Christmas!

The beautiful girl in pink always came just after one in the afternoon when it was busiest, looking around with great interest before beaming brightly and buying a pastry; she seemed to favor the babkas the most, though she informed him that every delicacy she’d tasted was nothing less than “pure perfection”. He always found himself growing hot under the collar at her compliments far more than when other customers gave them, grinning and thanking her profusely.

As the weeks turned into months, Jacob found himself looking forward to the beautiful blonde’s visits – they were quickly becoming the highlight of his day, and he would think about her while laying in bed that night, wondering about her. He didn’t know anything about her other than the fact she wore a pink coat and had the most stunning smile he’d ever seen, her voice soft and like music, but he was already infatuated with her even so. There was something familiar about her, like he knew her from somewhere, but he couldn’t remember for the life of him how he knew her – and surely, he wouldn’t have forgotten someone so lovely. It was like something was missing, and he couldn’t help but be puzzled by it.

It was early one spring morning when he was preparing to open the bakery, making sure he had enough pastries made to cover the morning rush and tidying things up; he smiled to himself as the smell of his baking wafted from the kitchen, straightening his apron before rearranging a display of fantastically shaped pastries. These ones were shaped like some kind of monkey, complete with big blue eyes made from icing; even though he knew it wasn’t a monkey, he didn’t actually know what it was – like the rest of his designs, it had come to him in a daydream or while asleep.

The bell above the door rang cheerfully, and he turned to greet the customer (even if it _was_ ten minutes before opening – he wasn’t going to turn away someone over ten minutes, after all); to his surprise, it was the blonde woman in her pink coat, looking around somehow hesitantly – but when she saw him, her face lit up.

“Ja- Mr Kowalski,” She said, beaming brightly at him; his knees started to feel like jelly at her look. “Good morning. I’m sorry, I know you’re not open yet…”

“No, that ain’t no problem,” Jacob assured her quickly, and he suddenly wished he wasn’t wearing a stained apron in front of her. “What would you like today, Miss? You can have whatever you want, fresh out of the oven.”

She laughed, a lovely sound, and stepped closer. “You’re sweet, thank you! I just thought I’d get a little pick-me-up for me and my sister; she forgot to eat this morning, rushed off straight to work, so I figured one of your delicious creations might perk her up a bit.”

He watched as she looked over at the freshly-made pastries, mouth feeling dry; there was no doubt about it – she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, hands down.

“I think I’ll take two of these,” The woman hummed, and her smile seemed to widen as she looked at him and gestured to one of the racks. “These are cute – I’m sure it’ll put her in a good mood!”

Jacob bagged the two indicated pastries (these were in the form of a burrowing kind of creature, something like a platypus he supposed), and handed them to her; when she reached for her purse, he shook his head. “Oh, no, don’t worry about that. It’s before opening, so I’ll give it to you on the house.”

“You’re sure?” But she was beaming again in a way that made his stomach flutter in a pleasant way. “Thank you, Mr Kowalski, that’s very kind of you!”

“No problem. You and your sister enjoy,” He said jovially; briefly, he wondered if this would mean she wouldn’t visit during the lunch hour. _It’d be a shame not to see that gorgeous face_.

The woman sent him a joyful smile as she started for the door. “I’ll be back around lunch-time, if that’s okay – I have a real sweet tooth for your baking.”

“That’s more than okay,” He chuckled, unable to keep himself from feeling pleased. “I’m glad you enjoy my baking so much – makes me feel special.”

As she reached the door, she looked back at him; for a moment she looked like she was debating what to say, hands clutching tighter to her bag. “Well…your baking really is special – you got a real gift for it.”

If she noticed him flushing with pride at her comment as she left, she didn’t mention it.

* * *

 

The beautiful blonde continued to visit his bakery over the next few weeks, her smile never failing to brighten his day no matter how rundown he felt, and Jacob had found that seeing her was most certainly the best part of his day. He couldn’t help but think about her all day long, either waiting for her to visit or thinking back on seeing her after he went home – she was stuck in his mind, well and truly.

His dreams were also occupied by the mystery woman; he was so sure that he knew her from somewhere, and his dreams while he was asleep seemed more like jumbled memories than anything else. Sometimes she would smile at him, much the same as she did in his shop, and he’d find himself smiling back in his dream, enamored by her; a few times, however, he’d had visions of her crying in front of him, looking heartbroken – he didn’t like those ones at all: a beautiful girl like that didn’t deserve to be so upset and distraught.

Sometimes she looked downtrodden or sad when she entered his bakery, her smile not quite reaching her eyes as she greeted him; he always gave her whatever pastry she wanted, on the house, when she looked that miserable. A part of Jacob wanted to ask why she was so unhappy – who or what had made her feel this way? – but he knew that that would overstep a boundary. As much as he hated to admit it, it was none of his business: he saw her for no more than ten minutes a day, and so he had no right to be wondering about her private life.

One morning, he’d been preparing to open when she dropped in early again; he grinned at the sight of her, inviting her in immediately. “What can I get you? I just got a fresh batch of paczkis out the oven – I been working on getting the orange zest right.”

Her face lit up, eyes bright. “That sounds heavenly, thank you!”

Once he’d given her a chair to sit down on, he put down a plate with a small pastry on it. “You’re trying the first batch of the day, so it’s free of charge.”

“You’re too kind, Mr Kowalski,” The woman hummed, already reaching for the paczki. “Your pastries are the best in New York – best in America too, I’d say.”

He chuckled, going slightly pink. “That’s nice of you to say.”

“It’s the truth,” She insisted, and her voice was sincere. “I love cooking and baking, you know – have done since I was a little girl and my Ma taught me how – and your baking is better than anything I’ve ever tasted before.”

“You like to cook?”

“Oh, yes!” She agreed enthusiastically. “I _love_ it; I do all the cooking for me and my sister, you know… The guys where we work, they’re real fond of my strudel.”

Involuntarily, Jacob’s stomach stirred in interest, and he grinned as he leaned forward on the counter to watch her. “Man, I love strudel… A lot of guys, they prefer pie – but me? I’d take strudel any day.”

“Maybe I could bring you some sometime? I don’t think it’ll be as delicious as any of the things you make, Mr Kowalski, but…”

“Nonsense,” He scoffed. “I’d love to try your strudel, if you like – I’m sure it’ll be amazing.”

The woman looked pleased as she finished her pastry, smiling to herself widely; she really did look like an angel, Jacob mused to himself, with her blonde curls and beautiful face. To add, she seemed like a genuine person, beautiful inside as well as out, and he wanted to get to know her more – trying her strudel seemed like a good start.

“I guess I should get going,” She said softly after a moment, standing up. “I just thought I’d pop in, see how things were…usually it’s so busy when I come that I can’t think, you know? It’s nice to talk when it’s quieter.” She looked down at the floor and then back up, suddenly appearing almost _nervous_. “I’ll see you soon, Mr Kowalski.”

Jacob watched as she headed for the door, and before he could stop himself, he had called out to her. “Miss? Jacob is fine.” When she turned to face him, he cleared his throat and gave her a grin.

She beamed, and for a moment he felt like he was flying because she had the most stunning smile he’d ever seen. “Okay, Jacob. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

* * *

 

The girl continued to visit every day, a vibrant and cheerful pink in a sea of greys and blues; it was no exaggeration that her smile brightened up his day, her optimism and happy attitude more than enough to make him feel light-headed.

Even though her visits were daily, and he was more than used to them by now, Jacob still couldn’t help but wonder as to why she visited every single day; sometimes she didn’t even buy a pastry, he had noticed, seeming to stop in just to talk or even to watch if it was particularly busy. Not that he didn’t enjoy the visits – they were the best part of the day, in fact – but no other customer visited as often as she did, and he would have been lying if he said it didn’t perplex him just a bit.

It was a Wednesday morning in early July; the bakery was quiet after the morning rush, and he’d been preparing to bake more pastries when the bell above the door tinkled. Hurriedly wiping his hands to clean them of any dough, Jacob stepped out from the backroom and to stand behind the till; to his delight, it was the woman who had entered. She was carrying a small box of some kind, dressed in a lovely pink and blue dress that complimented her features wonderfully; it took his breath away for a moment.

“Morning,” He managed to greet jovially.

She beamed. “Good morning, Mr Kow- _Jacob_. How’s things been?”

“Swell; it’s the quiet hour now,” He informed her. “Only two or three customers will come, then it’ll be the lunch hour and busy all over again! And you, how have you been?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” She hummed cheerfully. “My sister’s out of town on a work commitment, so I been all alone this week, but it’s okay – gives me some space, you know?”

Jacob nodded before straightening up and grinning. “Well, what can I get you? Paczki? Babka?”

“Actually,” She said, smiling at him as she placed her box on the counter. “I made a strudel last night – just to pass the time – and I had a lot left over. I thought maybe you’d like to try some?”

“Strudel? I’d be honored to,” He agreed, pleased when she gave a small laugh. “Take a seat, I’ll just let Henry know I’m taking a five-minute break.”

It was the first time they’d really sat down together – usually all of their conversations took place whilst he was standing behind the till – and it was nice to be sitting opposite her as she offered him a piece of strudel. Even though it was cold by now, it still smelt _delicious_ – he already knew he was going to enjoy it even before taking a single bite; she watched his face intently as he started to eat, clearly eager to know what he thought.

“Oh, man,” Jacob mumbled, giving a sigh of satisfaction as he swallowed the strudel in his mouth. “That’s _heavenly_. Better than any recipe I’ve tried before, I tell you.”

“I’m glad you like it, Jacob,” She told him, and it was obvious that she was delighted.

“ _Like_ it? I _love_ it,” He affirmed, and his heart skipped a beat when she beamed even more. “Best damn strudel I’ve ever had.”

As he continued to eat, each bite pure perfection, he couldn’t help but think that it tasted vaguely familiar – like he’d had it before, even. But that was impossible, he’d never had her strudel in his life, and he was certain that no one made it like she did; it was as if his brain was playing tricks on him.

 _This strudel is insanely good,_ Jacob thought to himself as he reached for another forkful; _It’s like the best strudel I’ve ever tasted-_

( _“This meal – it’s insanely good,” He stated sincerely. “This is what I do – I’m a cook, and this is, like, the greatest meal I’ve ever had in my life!”_

 _The beautiful blonde giggled in delight. “Oh, you slay me!”_ )

He dropped his fork.

The woman frowned, looking concerned. “Are you okay, honey?”

( _“Oh hey,” The blonde looked worried. “You okay, honey?”_ )

Jacob nodded hurriedly, wanting to look composed in front of her; in a bid to get some time to think before speaking, he stood from his seat and started to fiddle with the buttons on his waistcoat. “Yeah, fine, I just… I dunno, something’s coming back to me.” He hesitated before looking up at her, doing his best to put on a reassuring smile. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, honey – you can ask anything.”

“You visit every day,” He stated. “You’ve been doing it every day for months – I love that you visit, don’t get me wrong! It’s just…I can’t figure out why you visit every day.”

“I like your pastries,” She said slowly, though it was apparent she was avoiding something. “And I like _you_ ; you’re one of a kind, Jacob, like no one else I’ve met before.” She paused, clearly debating to herself whether to continue. “We met before you opened your bakery. Do you remember?”

( _He was feeling unwell, very sweaty and ill; his neck was burning from when whatever-the-hell-it-was bit him, and he was sure that this was all just a hallucination – the guy with the furry black creature, the woman in the blue coat who seemed worried. It would explain why he thought the ironing was doing itself in the corner, why it looked like the washing by the fire had lifted itself onto the line_.)

“I…I don’t know,” Jacob admitted; absent-mindedly, he reached to touch his neck.

She looked hopeful as she also stood, moving forward and taking his free hand in one of her own. “Jacob, I know you’re remembering – please, honey, please remember for me.”

( _“Teenie – you brought men home?”_

 _He was thunderstruck; standing in front of him, in a pink slip with her bare legs on display, was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life._ )

“You’re remembering,” She gasped, squeezing his hand. “Jacob…”

( _“Gentlemen,” The woman in the blue coat announced. “This is my sister.” She shot a pointed look at the girl in the slip. “You wanna put something on, Queenie?”_

 _The blonde was unconcerned as she waved what appeared to be a stick over the clothes dummy nearby. “Oh, sure.”_ )

It was all coming back to him, clear as day – it wasn’t a stick, it was a _wand_ , all three of the other people in the room had had them, and everything in the apartment was _magic_. He could remember what the furry black thing was – he’d designed one of his pastries like it, it was something called a Niffler! In fact, all of his pastry designs were that of creatures he’d seen – they’d been in the man’s suitcase, a vast world that fascinated him.

The man was called Newt. The woman in the blue coat, she was called Tina.

And the blonde woman – the most beautiful girl he’d seen – was called-

“Queenie,” Jacob whispered, looking at her with wide eyes. “ _Queenie_.”

Queenie’s eyes were filled with tears, joyful ones, as she read his mind and saw it all coming back to him. “Jacob…”

“I remember,” He stated in awe, not sure whether to grin or cry. “I remember _all_ of it.”

She laughed tearfully, throwing her arms around him and embracing him tightly; as he wrapped his arms around her, he couldn’t help the few tears that escaped at being reunited with her. He knew now, without a doubt, that the woman he’d been dreaming of months – the one he was so sure had only been a figment of his imagination – was _her_ , his Queenie.

And he’d be damned if he ever let her go again.


End file.
